


fit to burst

by emblems



Series: this dance of ours [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Pre-Timeskip, post-plegia, whoops, ylisse summers are hot and chrom and robin struggle with hormones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4592910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblems/pseuds/emblems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He stands between her legs now, and it’d be so, so easy to give in, to let this dance reach its conclusion right there on the table and burn the rest.</i>
</p><p>
or: chrom and robin are engaged and can't keep their hands to themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fit to burst

**Author's Note:**

> takes place a few weeks after the defeat of gangrel, which may or may not have been around summertime but for the sake of this fic we're gonna go with yes.

Summers in Ylisse, she’s quickly learning, are nothing to be scoffed at. Her study, thankfully, has several windows that let in the meager breeze, but it does little to lower the temperature of the room.

She’s long since tied up her hair, and her cloak lies thrown over a chair by the desk. She bends over the map table, chewing on a quill and considering how much land their last skirmish had spanned. Most of the Plegian citizens had calmed down, making insurgencies fewer and farther in between, but something about the heat was making sparks fly as of late.

An arm suddenly reaches around her, pointing at a small mountain range along the southwestern border. “We got pushed right up to the foothills.”

Chrom speaks scant inches from her ear, and despite the heat, she can feel his warm breath brush across her skin. “Thank you,” she replies, hoping her voice holds steady. The last time he was this close they were in a storage closet and, well—best not to revisit that. Total distraction isn't on the schedule for today. 

He takes a step back but remains at her side, arm brushing hers as she straightens.

He’s also eschewed some of his heavier layers—his cape is missing, and his usual doublet has been swapped for one that lacks sleeves on both sides. He’s just come from the training grounds, if the fine layer of sweat is anything to go by.

Thoughts of the training grounds drags her mind back to the last time she was there, when Chrom conned her into sparring with him, and she had to cope with the reality of being in close quarters, watching sweat drip down his face, his muscles work—

She bites her lip and takes a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself.

“How have the training sessions been going?” she asks.

Judging by his smirk, he's picked up on her distraction, and he opens his mouth to say something that’s probably lecherous. She arches her eyebrows expectantly, and he (wisely) changes course: “Smoothly—Frederick took your suggestions and restructured some of the sparring match-ups.”

She nods, turning back to the map. “Good, it’ll do them all some good to do something different.”

When Chrom doesn’t respond after a few seconds, she turns to face him.

His eyes are trained on her neck—her collarbone, more specifically.

Her throat goes dry. “Chrom—”

He takes a step closer to her, and suddenly the already sweltering room has become that much warmer.

“I think,” he says, voice a rasp, “I’m having some trouble.”

She swallows, and again she feels his eyes follow the line of her throat. Sweat runs down the side of his neck, and she feels heat course through her. “Chrom, whatever you’re thinking—”

“That’s the problem,” he says. “I can’t think straight, and I don’t know if it’s because of this heat or because of you. Or both.” He shifts so that he boxes her in against the table, one hand on either side of her hips, which rest against the table’s edge. His eyes are dark, full of intent and heat that has her head spinning.

“Gods, Chrom,” she says, and she has to bite her lip to keep from moaning, because Chrom nestles his head in her neck and _that’s_ —

His breath ghosts over her shoulder, raising goosebumps on her arms that defy the warmth rolling through her. The heat reduces everything to a blur, one sensation running into the next.

“We can’t, not here, not now—” she breathes. “Someone could walk in, and we can’t do this while you’re unmarried, the council would have a _fit_ —”

“Then marry me,” he says, lips moving over the meeting point of her neck. “Marry me and we won’t have to keep holding back.”

Her frustration bubbles up, hot alongside the lust still sitting in her chest. What’s worse is that she doesn’t know where to direct it—at him or at their situation. Logic and pragmatism dictate she put her foot down and stop this immediately, before they do something truly foolish.

But weeks of this back-and-forth with Chrom have made her weak, have made her malleable. So it’s despite knowing what’s sensible that she brings her hand up to tangle in his hair, holding him against her. He stands between her legs now, and it’d be so, so easy to give in, to let this dance reach its conclusion right there on the table, and burn the rest.

_And yet—_

Her hands go to his shoulders. “We have to wait, Chrom,” she says.

“Why?” he asks, breath falling across her neck. His hands, which had been trailing at the hem of her shirt, still. She squeezes his shoulders but does not push away—not just yet.

The haze is beginning to clear. “Because there is a funeral, and a coronation, and a kingdom to repair—”

“All the more reason,” Chrom says. “Ylisse could use a spot of happiness, something to lift their morale—”

“We just won a war,” she says. “I think they’ll manage.” She extricates herself from Chrom’s grip so she can turn to face him. Taking in his put-out expression, she sighs. “Don’t think it’s because I don’t want to,” she says. She reaches up to cup his cheek. “Nothing could be further from the truth. But we need to put Ylisse first right now. You know this.”

He holds her gaze steadily for a few seconds, before sighing. He presses his forehead against hers and says, “You have an infuriating habit of being right all the time."

“That infuriating habit has saved your skin more than once,” she replies.

“See, there it is again.”

She laughs, and he kisses her, and every part of her aches to be more than this, to love openly and without worrying about an entire kingdom.

He pulls away, and she sees the same thought etched in the furrow of his brow.

“Soon,” she says, running a hand through his hair. “Remember that waiting was your idea.”

“Aren’t you the one that likes to remind me how fallible I am? How error-prone I can be?”

Robin snorts and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. “I must admit, humility suits you,” she says. She wriggles her way out of Chrom’s firm grip and heads for the door. “I’ll see you later tonight at dinner.”

When she turns to give him one last look, he’s right there, wrapping her up completely. “I love you.”

She blinks, then sinks into him. “And I you, Chrom.”

He kisses the crown of her head, and they linger there for a few moments still.

Finally, with great difficulty, they separate, and Robin heads back to her chambers.

 _Soon_ , she repeats to herself, leaning against the door with a sigh.

If only this blasted heat would give them some peace.

**Author's Note:**

> i have more for this because "we shouldn't be doing this right now we're not even married yet and no one knows we're engaged but fuck it we're gonna make out in a deserted corridor" chrobin is my fave and there's so little of it?? 
> 
> so keep your eyes peeled is what i'm saying


End file.
